


And So We Burned

by Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind



Series: The Random Disconnected DA Creativity Galore [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Blood Mages, Blood Magic, Demonic Possession, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Manpain, Murder, Not Beta Read, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:52:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6778120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind/pseuds/Eternal_Garbage_of_a_Spotless_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What had <i>really</i> taken place in the small room at the bottom of the stairs to the Harrowing chamber? Why did Alistair and Solona find Neria at Cullen's feet?</p><p>(A small one - shot that explains a scene from Champions of The Just - an AU  short - story of mine where Alistair and Cullen had a lond lasting bromance. Untill I destroyed it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And So We Burned

The stench made Cullen sick to his stomach. The smell of sweat, blood, urine... The smell of death and despair. How long have he been locked here? Watching his brothers and sisters being tormented by the mages first and then by the demons the wretches had summoned. Staring at their unseeing eyes full of terror, iron - clad fingers clawing at the skin in utter agony, unable to relieve the pain the demons had brought. They have fallen one by one untill he alone was standing, untouched by the horrors. Why, though? He had no answer to that.

Cullen slumped and retched in the corner near the staircase, trembling hand clutching at the wall for support. He felt weak and sickly - Cullen had burned through his lyrium supply quite a while ago in a fruitless attempt to break the binding magic of their prison. When he and the other templars had exhausted themselves the accursed maleficarum made their entrance. They have laughed and they have taunted and finally they had unleashed the demons. Ser Anika, the eldest of them, had succumbed first - her shrieks still echoing the halls as she slit her own throat. Ser Gunter was close second. Ser Alrik, ser Amalia.... They fell before him and Cullen could do absolutely nothing but watch, sitting in the corner and whimpering like a child when the attempt of snapping them out of it had failed. He could do no more - without lyrium he was _nothing_. A scary thing to realize when your comrades die at your feet, their death most horrid.

And then came the silence. So profound, so unsettling it rang in his ears, driving him insane. Was this it? Was everyone gone? Will he die here or will anyone come for him? Cullen had slipped into a hazy stupor - so tired and drained he was.

Footsteps. 

Cullen jerked his head upwards so hastily it collided with the wall, sending a burst of stars through his mind. He stood up, legs shaking and ready to give up from under him - the heavy templar armour felt twice its weight now. Constricting, suffocating. Cullen's trembling fingers locked around the pommel of his longsword. As pitiful as this last stand would be, it was all he could do as one of the Order.

That bleating, Cullen had recognized it immediately. _They_ were back and, as the door swung open, the breath hitched in his throat as he stared at the two men unceremoniously dragging along a small woman. Her robe was partly torn, bruises all along her pale arms. The woman's face had nothing but mindless horror on it, heavy ashen - blond braid stained with dark blood that was slowly seeping from the cut on her forehead.

"Look at the little knight," the tall red - head with buck teeth gloated as he lifted the elf's chin roughly. "Is it him?"

Tears in her wide open eyes made Cullen's insides clench in rage and fear as he watched the rebel's nails dig deep into her skin.

"Now now, Neria, you _promised_ to behave. You are not going to be one of them insolent knife - ears, will you?"

"Please..." she whimpered weakly and only now Cullen noticed her hands hanging unnaturally limp - they broke her wrists so she would not cast. A mage who was nothing but a healer.

"How _dare_ you?!" his voice was a high - pitched shriek, anger and panic mingling in one as his legs carried him closer to the barrier.

"This bitch had the gall to try and heal one of the whoresons you call 'brothers'," the other mage hissed. Cullen remembered him vaguely - Peter the Fish, a nickname fairly given to him for the dull eyes he had. "So we had to teach her some basic manners."

Neria cried softly, her whole body shaking and Cullen watched in horror as the Buck Teeth drew out a small dagger, grinning wickedly. He quickly cleaned the blade with his robe and delivered three fast slashes - one along the length of each lower arm and one on the throat. For a second Neria's face looked almost surprised as the bright red blood gushed out of the wounds and then her eyes slowly rolled backwards, body crumpling to the ground as the rebels released their hold.

Cullen screamed then, throwing himself on the dimly shimmering walls of his prison and falling backwards as the angry lightning shot through him, setting every single nerve within his body on fire. His face was nothing but tears and snot at that point, shallow ragged breaths leaving his lungs. Cullen barely registered Peter dipping his fingers in the blood and quickly drawing symbols on the floor around Neria's body. They chanted something in a language he could not understand and then he heard them leave, their loathsome gloating bouncing off the walls.

Cullen could not lift his gaze. Afraid to look, the memory of her gentle frame coloured crimson etched in his mind. He wanted to remember her smiling, the doe eyes shining with joy and excitement. Those bastards took it away. They took _her_ away and for no other reason but to see one more templar suffer for their perverted amusement.

_"Cullen..."_

Her voice. Soft and yet inexplicably resonating within the empty room.

"Please, look at me..." the voice beckoned softly. He could not refuse that urgent plea, it was the least he could do after... After everything. The stolen glances, the shy smiles. The dreams he had, the thoughts he was ashamed of. 

Cullen raised his head, eyes blind with tears as Neria's silhouette was nothing but a blotch in front of him. The elven woman came closer and her icy hands touched his face, wiping away the tears. Neria's fingers were as gentle as he always imagined they would be and, despite the coldness, he had mindlessly leaned into her touch.

"Don't be scared," she whispered, her hands cupping his face in a manner most loving. "They are gone now."

"So are you..." he muttered through a sob. Cullen had his eyes shut tight, too afraid to look upon the woman in front of him. He saw her die, the plain robe drenched maroon with her own blood. She could not be standing here, she - 

"Why would you think me gone?" Neria asked, a note of surprise in her voice as Cullen felt her arms snaking around his neck and sending shivers down his spine. "None of that was real, they made you see things, made you suffer. It is over now."

Oh how he wanted to believe her! That he had imagined everything, that _somehow_ the maleficarum had gotten inside his head. That if he opened his eyes it would still be sweet gentle Neria - sparkles of laughter in her beautiful eyes, unruly strands of hair falling over her forehead. Cullen's shoulders started to tremble as the fingers on his right hand twitched, grasping the air.

"The Tower is no more," she said, lips brushing his earlobe. " We can be free, be whatever we want. _Together_. Just say the word and we will leave for the future unknown. _Our_ future, Cullen."

When her cold lips had found his, Cullen was not prepared. A feeling of longing for the things he would never have made him answer the kiss, if only for a brief moment. When the sickening fear shot through him, Cullen's eyes flew open and his hand jerked towards the sword, fingers curling tightly around the pommel.

Neria pulled away, angelic smile on her pale face. The blood had stopped seeping from the gash on her neck, the splatters crusted on her jaw. No matter how innocently she smiled, the woman's eyes had stayed the same - glassy and dead, like those of the fish washed ashore. As she stood there, her hands on his shoulders, Cullen stared dully at the magic barrier. No living thing could walk through it. He knew it the moment she laid her hands upon his face.

"You could not have her in life and you will _not_ have her in death, fiend!" Cullen unsheathed his sword, clutching the demon's shoulder with his left hand and drove the blade through the thing's midsection. A hiss left its mouth, contorting Neria's features into something unspeakable, as it started crumpling to the ground.

"You will die here, templar. None will come for you." it croaked as the - now empty - shell that used to be Neria Surana had fallen once again.

Cullen's knees gave up from under him, both hands still clutching the sword that was wedged into Neria's body. He was afraid to let it go. Scared she might rise again. Terrified that this time round he will be too weak to distinguish the reality from the fantasy.

"O Maker, hear my cry: seat her by Your side in death. Make her one within Your glory." Cullen whispered feverishly through the violent shakes, as tears started to roll down his cheeks once more. "Forgive me. Forgive me."

An innocent had died because of him. Because of who he was. Cullen had let someone in and it cost Neria her life. Such thing should not and would not happen again. A lesson had been taught, even though Cullen wished dearly he was not the one to learn it.

_... Forgive me..._

**Author's Note:**

> This scene had been sitting in my head for a very long time. At first I wanted to make it twisted as fuck but then I went light on it. because it suited better.
> 
> Anyway, what is a hot dude without some manpain? NOTHING. So there, I provided Cullen with a good source of continuous manpain to draw upon when in need.


End file.
